Mirror

I spent the whole evening sitting before a mirror to keep myself company.

Cesare Pavese
Diary entry
November 6, 1938

Doses of true nostalgia since the sem break began drawing to a close. There's a buildup like you won't believe. I say "true" because we drones of literature have many ways of faking or provoking nostalgia. And when we do succeed, when we do feel something, some of us hesitate to call it the real thing. I don't know. It's just feels more genuine to dream when you're asleep, to cry when you're suddenly hurt, and to be hit by nostalgia when you're unawares.

Semestral breaks are so notorious for nostalgia that it's been sung. Anyway, in my case this year, it's late in coming. I must have avoided it somehow because of the tasks required by the division, the organization, and the child. It still managed to creep in though, from the cold wet soil as it were and sometimes with such violence that I had to hit my temples.

Before the Soul's Day, the child kept us busy, grossly entertained, and exhausted. I texted my father about this. Good, that's the way things should be, he replied.

Speaking Engagement

Gonzalo has definitely entered into his activities as an agitator, writer, talker, leader of eighty South American intellectuals. He is close to Pablo Neruda, to Jose Bergamin. I heard Neruda read his own poems. Jose Bergamin, a Catholic philosopher, is trying to balance Catholicism on one hand, and Marxism on the other.

Gonzalo's passion about politics, his vehement speeches, his sincerity are not without effect on me. I was won over to his Marxism.

"Strange," said Gonzalo, "that even though you were so far from all this, it was you who urged me to fulfill myself, and brought on my desire for action."

Anais Nin
Diary entry
November

E was showing off his new website. He had time on his hands, he said, he was convalescing during the sem break. It was his birthday two days ago, by the way. I think he's happy that he got an extension for his grant. On the other hand, I want to be done with my book as soon as possible.

For once, we're up before my aunt. We're all up, in fact, the child, my mother, and my wife. They woke up in that order. Last night, I remember noting tears on my wife's face while she was sleeping. It was about a dream, she said. Then she said some more.

I brought home the work of my three advisees. I wish to use these theses as the subject matter of my speech on the 5th of December. I'm preparing this early because the organizers wrote that they expect a full paper. Also, I have to reacquaint myself with the courses I'll be handling this semester. I should hear at least a whisper of this speech in my head before the end of this week. It just occurred to me: December 5, 2009 will be the 2nd death anniversary of my own thesis adviser.

Patch

In the morn to our own church, where Mr. Mills did begin to nibble at the Common Prayer by saying 'Glory be to the Father,' &c., after he had read the two psalms: but the people had been so little used to it, that they could not tell what to answer. My wife seemed very pretty today, it being the first time I had given her leave to wear a black patch.

Samuel Pepys
Diary entry
November 4, 1660

The wind has stopped, but the chill will descend upon the day one way or another. It's the season. I have been doing a lot of leisure reading on the computer screen. This drains me, probably even the people around me. The justification exists: no reading is leisure in my line of work, each page is necessary. It's thin, but I subscribe to it. I have no alternative to distraction. The child called for me, my wife had just reported. But I heard it. I shall watch the child deal with the bottle.

Downspout

To give me something new to begin with as well, Daddy askeed Koophuis for a children's Bible so that I could find out something about the New Testament at last. "Do you want to give Anne a Bible for Chanuka?" asked Margot, somewhat perturbed. "Yes--er, I think St. Nicholas Day is a better occasion," answered Daddy; "Jesus just doesn't go with Chanuka."

Anne Frank
Diary entry
November 3, 1943

Lights are on again after most of the weekend dependent on candles. The semestral break has come to a close. It was much too brief for me, but I got to clean the gutters. Mae and Dad left yesterday. We sent Ate off before lunchtime. The child said her Ninang's name 4 hours after she left.

Comfort

The Weepies

When everyone has gone to sleep
and you are wide awake
there's no one left to tell your troubles to.
Just an hour ago, you listened to their voices
lilting like a river over underground
and the light from downstairs
came up soft like daybreak
dimly as the heartache of a lonely child.

If you can't remember a better time
you can have mine, little one.
In days to come when your heart feels undone
may you always find an open hand
and take comfort wherever you can.

And oh, it's a strange place.
And oh, everyone with a different face
but just like you thought
when you stopped here to linger
we're only as separate as your little fingers.

So cry, why not? we all do
then turn to one you love
and smile a smile that lights up all the room.
Follow your dreams in through every out-door
it seems that's what we're here for.

And when you can't remember a better time
you can have mine, little one.
In days to come when your heart feels undone
may you always find an open hand
and take comfort, there is comfort.
Take comfort wherever you can, you can, you can.

Diamond Sea

Sonic Youth

time takes its crazy toll
and how does your mirror grow
you better watch yourself when you jump into it
'cause the mirror's gonna steal your soul

I wonder how it came to be my friend
that someone just like you has come again
you'll never, never know how close you came
until you fall in love with the diamond rain

throw all his trash away
look out he's here to stay
your mirror's gonna crack when he breaks into it
and you'll never never be the same

look into his eyes and you can see
why all the little kids are dressed in dreams
I wonder how he's gonna make it back
when he sees that you just know it's make-believe

blood crystalized as sand
and now I hope you'll understand
you reflected into his looking glass soul
and now the mirror is your only friend

look into his eyes and you will see
that men are not alone on the diamond sea
sail into the heart of the lonely storm
and tell her that you'll love her eternally

time takes its crazy toll
mirror fallin' off the wall
you better look out for the looking glass girl
'cause she's gonna take you for a fall

look into his eyes and you shall see
why everything is quiet and nothing's free
I wonder how he's gonna make her smile
when love is running wild on the diamond sea

Who's Next?

You were frank. What a lovely and liberating thing to be. Maybe you were also cruel, but I never stood too close to notice. Candor was the stuff of entertainment, but also of dismay. There's no point in giving gifts to you now, but yes I did love those hands more when they were warm with color. Instead I took a gift in your name, entered you or my approximation of you, tried my darnedest to become you: What would you say if you were in my place?

It seemed to me you would ask a question. One question.

Possibly, you would never come to this question. You would never be in my place. Or, you have ceased coming to questions. But the question is here, before me, whole like a softball or a nut. I'm not certain which of us owns it.

Neveretheless, I understand how I belong to this particular question. Goodbye, you.